


Kitten Mittens

by carnal_k



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aftercare, Bondage, Crying, Dom Shiro (Voltron), Dom/sub, M/M, Master Shiro (Voltron), Master/Pet, No Sex, Sub Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 09:23:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12603432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carnal_k/pseuds/carnal_k
Summary: Master Shiro challenges his sub Keith to get out of his restraints while wearing bondage mitts.





	Kitten Mittens

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, no sex in this one, but a nice bondage scene, I think. Cross posted from my tumblr @bottomkeef. There's art for this! [here](https://trytofocus.tumblr.com/post/165866801220/your-art-gives-me-life-may-i-request-some-crying) and [here](https://trytofocus.tumblr.com/post/166110162795/a-new-fav-panel-from-the-comic-im-slowly-doing). Yes, the title is from Always Sunny because I was truly stumped for anything else lol.

Keith’s knees have been forced under him for over an hour. They sting and ache from the cramps of being left in the same position for so long, the cold seeping into them, and the bruises blossoming. He wishes they would just go numb already, but every time he shifts his weight even the slightest, the pain makes itself known. The cuffs securing his calves to his thighs are doing their fair share to abuse him, as well. They’re tight; not tight enough to cut off circulation, but enough to leave marks and bruising. His arms are held behind his back, with ropes around his elbows and wrists, making his shoulders sore. A large ball gag is shoved in his mouth, tasting overwhelmingly like rubber and keeping his mouth open wide enough to ache and let drool seep from his lips. And to top it all off, a thick collar is secured around his neck with a heavy chain attached somewhere above him. Which he thinks is just overkill, if you ask him. He has no use of his arms or legs, but Master finds the chain appealing, likes to listen to the little rattles as his pet wiggles around on his throbbing knees.

Master loves to find new ways to challenge him, though this seems more…  _tame_ than he’s used to. Keith recalls, somewhat irritably, the position he was left in just a few nights ago. Master and he had tried out a pretty strict ball tie. His legs were bent and tied in close to his torso, a rope around his neck pulled his head down and left him bent and hunched, and a bit buckled tight around his head left his lips uncomfortably spread and pulled. And Master had left him tied like that for  _hours_ , just watching Keith wiggle against his bonds and pushing him over to watch him struggle more. His body cramped and ached. And yet, by the time Master had untied his ropes and massaged his muscles, he was hard as a diamond in his briefs. The pain and the struggle was as much the pleasure as anything else.

Keith had just about settled into a distant head space when he hears light footsteps moving around the room. He looks up to see Master, smiling at him fondly. Master reaches out with his prosthetic hand and cups Keith’s face and moves his thumb around in the drool on his chin. He offers Keith that grounding comfort, without the satisfaction of skin-to-skin contact. That’s fine. Keith will deny him the satisfaction of a muffled moan, which he knows is one of Master’s favorites.

“You’re doing so well for me, Kitten,” Master says, and Keith tries not to let himself keen at the praise. “But this is easy for you isn’t it?”

Admittedly, it is. He’s sore and his knees ache, but it’s certainly not the worst positions he’s been in.

“Let’s make this a little fun, hm?” Master runs his fingers through Keith’s hair. If he were an actual kitten, he’d purr. Master then reaches back behind Keith’s head and unbuckles the gag.

Keith sticks his tongue out and licks his lips. “Ugh. Can you wipe my face?” Keith asks, though Master just looks at him, pointedly. Keith rolls his eyes. “Can you please wipe off my face,  _Master_?”

Master walks away for a moment to grab something, and then comes back and uses his prosthetic hand to half-heartedly wipe at the drool on Keith’s chin. He mostly just smears it around. He then dangles some leather contraptions in front of Keith’s face. “What do you think of these, Kitten? They’re mitts.”

Ah, Keith thinks he’s seen those before. Leather encasements for hands, keeping them balled into fists.

“These don’t look so bad, right?” Master says. “Here’s the deal. I’ll untie your arms and wrists, but I give you these. And if you can get free, I’ll give you a reward.”

Keith perks up at that. A reward? Master was exceptionally generous with rewards, absolutely spoiling Keith with whatever treatment he could want; rough, gentle, humiliation, praise. Anything that Keith happens to want that day. And in the end, Keith is left soft and pliant and satisfied, held in masters arms, warm and happy. Keith would give anything to be off his knees and for his Master to be catering to him, anything for that warm feeling.

Keith huffs.  _No problem_ , he thinks. They’re just leather mittens. So he nods and tugs at his arm restraints to demonstrate he’s ready for them  _off_.

“I like to see you so eager, baby, but be patient,” Master chides while he moves behind Keith to release his arms. Keith can’t help the moan as his arms are freed and Master tries to rub out some of the soreness.

“Okay, there we go. You ready?”

Keith nods again.

Master takes one wrist, forms the hand into the shape of a tight fist, and then gently works the leather over it. He then tightens the cuff around the wrist and then fastens a tiny padlock to the buckle. His other wrist then gets the same treatment.

He examines his hands encased in the leather, rather small leather balls extending off his wrists. Though, he believes they’re not  _completely_ useless.

Keith thinks he can start with the collar. If he can just work the strap through the buckle, he can be on his way to freedom, and to his reward.

So, he gets to work. He takes the little leather mitts and he starts rubbing at the strap of his collar and trying to work it through the buckle. He thinks if he just keeps working at it, he’ll eventually get it through, right? He keeps rubbing… and rubbing. He keeps trying to push it through the buckle. Yet… The strap won’t budge. Keith is starting to see a little bit of the issue of not having use of his fingers or thumbs.

Keith decides then to work at the cuffs around his thighs. He should have better luck from being able to see those. So he works his leathered fists over the cuffs. He paws and paws at the straps, sees it bunching and working, yet still not able to work it through the buckle. Keith huffs in frustration.  _Stupid mitts_ , he thinks, they must have been pre-treated or oiled, perhaps they’re just  _slippery_ …

All the while Keith paws and rubs at his restraints, trying and trying to work himself free of them, Shiro, Master, watches. He looks on, amused, as his pet, cocky and confident, works at his restraints like they’re going to loosen just from his rubbing alone. But his pet huffs in frustration as his struggles become more and more fruitless. Finally, he just starts pawing at the chain, not out of any belief that he will somehow loosen it or knock it free of the hook above him, but just out of desperation. Shiro smirks. He likes the desperation.

Keith can feel the frustration building up in him. It makes his movements sloppy and frantic, makes his eyes grow wet. He wants to be free, dammit! He  _wants_ his reward. He doesn’t want to be tied up and toyed with any longer. He just wants to feel and be  _held_ , to break apart while Master holds him together. The more he thinks about it, the more he thinks about how  _close_ it is, the more he wants it. The more he  _needs_ it.

Master walks up to Keith after quite some time of watching him rub and push at his bonds. Keith has not made any progress. Master looks amused, but not exactly pleased.

He looks down at Keith and tuts. “What a shame, Kitten.” Master reaches out to run his prosthetic fingers through Keith’s hair again, a quick tease before pulling away. Keith tries to reach back out to him in return, but his restraints don’t let him lean very far, and his hands are useless, unable to grab hold of anything.

“Well, I guess you don’t want your reward. It was going to be really nice, Kitten. I was going to  _touch_ you, just like you like.”

Keith can feel the tears leak down his cheeks now. He reaches out a leather clad fists, resting it against Master’s thigh. He must look pitiful, he thinks. Eyes wet and begging, his useless hand pawing at his Master. But Master just steps back out of his reach.

“That’s too bad.” Master says. “I guess I’ll just have to punish you, instead.”

Keith can feel a sob welling in his chest. He shakes his head as much as he can with the collar still sitting snug around his neck. “N-no… Shiro…”

“Hey, hey,” Master’s face breaks into a bit of softness. “First off, you know the rules. Who am I?”

“M-Master…”

“That’s right, that’s good, baby.” Master reaches out now with his flesh hand, his warm skin cupping Keith’s cheek, much like he had earlier. Now he wipes at tears instead of drool. It’s the touch Keith has been craving, just enough to calm him a bit. He can’t help the whine that slips from his throat.

“How about this. I leave you like this just for another hour, with me sitting over there watching, okay? And then we’ll be all done for tonight. Just one more hour like this as your punishment.”

Keith took a deep breath and thought about it. One more hour, he thought. One more hour of cold aching knees, with master watching. Close… but not touching… For one more hour, Keith thinks he can do it. And then the scene is over, and it’s just Shiro and him. He nods again, gives one last sniffle and takes another deep breath to calm his overworked nerves.

Master smiles down at him. “That’s it, that’s my good Kitten.” Master gives him a quick rub to his scalp and then walks away. He takes a seat in a chair on the other side of the room, watching as his pet takes a few more deep breaths and calms himself, closing his eyes and relaxing.

It takes about fifteen minutes for Keith to start pawing at his restraints again. But this time, Master won’t be having that.

“Keith. Hands still,” Master orders.

Keith opens his eyes, landing on Master. He huffs out, clenching his fists in their leather prisons. “But, Master…”

“But nothing. Punishment, remember? Sit still.” Now that Keith is calmer, Master isn’t hesitant to add on to the punishment. And Keith isn’t hesitant to be annoyed.

Keith once again forces himself to relax, resting his hands on his thighs… and then he just… waits. He starts squirming a bit again, the ache in his knees making itself known in waves.

“Keith, if you keep moving, I’m going to make you sit longer. The less you move, the less your knees will hurt.” Keith fights a growl and forces himself to be very still.

The last half hour is just a monumental effort for Keith to remain perfectly still; no wiggling around, no working at the buckles with his fists. He falls into his distant head space again, losing himself and letting his limbs go numb. And then all too soon, his Master is petting him and tell him how good he did, easing the mitts off his sweaty hands.

“You did good, Kitten. How about I make us something sweet and then we settle in for a movie, huh?”

Keith feels heavy and tired, looking into Master’s eyes… No, not Master. Shiro. Shiro is untying him and stretching his limbs out, cooing while he moans.

“I know, baby. We’re gonna give your knees a break for a while, how’s that sound.”

“Mmmmmm… good?”

Shiro chuckles at him. “Good, good. Now let’s get you taken care of, okay, baby?” Keith feels his dick straining against his underwear. He whines as he’s shifted and lifted into Shiro’s arms and lifted. “Don’t worry about that, we’ll take care of that soon. You were so good, you deserve some reward, hm?”

Keith sighs, sleepy in Shiro’s arms. “Hmm… just you is good.”

Shiro kisses his head, then settles them together on the couch and wraps them in a blanket. He vaguely remembers Shiro had mentioned something about sweets, but he can’t keep his eyes open. Maybe it was the crying or the sub space, but all Keith wants to do at this moment is let himself drift off to sleep in Shiro’s arms. And so he does, warm and happy. Perhaps he got his reward after all.


End file.
